NOTE: The "Starman" characters are the property of John Carpenter and the movie studios. The idea for the story below is mine and is copyright (c) 1986 by Cheree Cargill. This story is an amateur production and is not intended to infringe on any legally existing copyrights. Not a plugged nickel was made on it. One copy may be downloaded for the reader's pleasure but it may not be further reproduced in any form whatsoever without the author's express written consent.

The Son of the Father

Cheree Cargill

(originally printed in "Melange #8, 1986, Joan Shumsky, editor))

The starman gazed at her with his steady, unnerving eyes and said in a strangely soft tone, "I gave you a baby tonight. It will be human. It will be your husband's baby but it will be my baby also."

Jenny Hayden stared at him, struck dumb. Finally, she found her voice. "But that's impossible. I can't have a baby."

The starman regarded her for a second then stated with certainty, "I gave you a baby tonight. It will be a boy baby. He will be like me. He will know all that I know. And when he grows to manhood, he will be a teacher." Jenny's breath escaped her in a soft exhalation, her eyes glistening. The starman weighed this and added, a touch of sadness in his voice, "If you do not want this baby, tell me now and I will stop it."

Jenny made a soft sound of negation and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely.

* * *

The starman opened his hand and she beheld the last of the little silver spheres. He took her hand and placed it in her palm. Her eyes quizzed him and he answered, "Give it to him. He will know what to do with it."

She nodded and closed her fingers over it. "Will I ever see you again?"

He slowly shook his head, his eyes grave. "No."

Abruptly, she was in his arms. "Take me with you!"

He held her then pushed her away. "No. You would die there." He paused then said softly, "Tell me again how to say good-bye."

Tears started down her cheeks. "Kiss me ... and tell me you love me..."

"I love you," he answered and their lips came together.

"I love you," she said when they parted and they kissed again, she clinging to him. But the ship called, the pulsing light of his homeworld beckoned, and he pulled away from her and walked into the heart of the light, looking back at her once. And the ship lifted.

* * *

He was born in the fall of the year, when the leaves were turning to flame and the wild geese flew overhead on their way south. On clear nights, she waited until his father's star rose above the horizon and pointed it out to him.

He grew into a strangely grave child, mature beyond his years, solitary and thoughtful. Often she found him gazing up at the stars as if trying to sort out the whirlwind of knowledge inside his mind.

In his adolescence, wandered the woods surrounding their Wisconsin home, attuned to the rhythms of nature as few others she'd known. His educational progress was phenomenal yet the universities and corporations that courted him held no glamour. He had no interest in their offers.

In his 21st year, he came to her and requested the legacy of the starman, the silver sphere she had put away before he was born. She had never told him about it, but he knew, as the starman said he would know. When she brought it to him, she knew he was leaving her.

"Will you come back to me?" she asked.

"I don't know, Mother," he answered honestly. "Perhaps I will. Perhaps not. I cannot see the future."

"You will leave me as your father left me."

"No. He has been with all these years and I will be with you also."

He carefully put the silver sphere in his shirt pocket and threw his duffle over his shoulder, kissed his mother and started down the gravel road away from their home. She stood on the porch and watched him go, then called, "Son ... where will you go? What will you do?"

He turned and smiled, a gentle knowing expression on his face. "Why, Mother, don't you know? I must be about my Father's business."

THE END